Magic and Machines
by Writergel
Summary: A chance encounter in London brings two of the most different worlds imaginable crashing together. At least it would have, if only the Autobot could REMEMBER  it. But that meeting set consequences into motion, and they're racing to catch up with him. . .
1. Prologue

**Hey, this is Writergurl616! This fanfiction idea has been bouncing around in my head for quite some time, and now that I've got a bunch of chapters written down, I'm gonna start posting it! Yay!**

**Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Transformers, nor do I own Harry Potter. **

Prologue

"I don't want to do this," a girl whimpered, her voice tinged with an English accent. She pushed a lock of honey-blonde hair behind her ear and turned to her mechanical friend. "I don't care what the Ministry says; I can't do this to you."

"You're going to have to," he told her gently. "Folks like me aren't allowed to know about folks like you. They would find out eventually, and I couldn't stand it if I was the cause of you losing your magic." When his companion didn't respond, the mech pressed on. "Besides, if you do this, the Death Eaters wouldn't have any reason to come after me, nor the Decepticons after you. It'll be safer, for the both of us." Sighing in defeat, the girl motioned for her friend to come closer, and then flung her arms around his neck.

"I'll miss you." she whispered in his audial, tears forming in her eyes.

"I wish I could say the same thing." he replied. Stepping back, the fifteen year-old drew a wand out of her pocket. The robotic being before her shuttered his optics in preparation. Laying the wand on his helm, Emily Clevy closed her eyes and muttered,  
><em>"Obliviate."<em>

** So there ya go. My hopefully engaging prologue. Yes, there is an OC in this fic, and no, she will not be paired with the Autobot involved. Any OC/canon is strong friendship only. Any who read this, please review so I know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. Harry Potter belongs to the genius who is Ms. J.K Rowling**

"Normal speak"

** : Commlink speak:**

Chapter 1

_It was the image sequence again. The one he kept seeing in recharge. Humans in cloaks shouting strange words and flashes of colored light. One human in particular, a blonde femme, kept appearing. She had a stick clutched in one hand and, unlike the others, was wearing ordinary clothes. She was shouting something, but like always the Autobot couldn't quite make out what she was saying. Another human femme seemed to materialize before them out of smoke. This one was older, with heavy-lidded eyes and frizzy black hair. She too had a wooden stick in her hand, which was pointed directly at him. For a reason he couldn't fathom, the sight filled the Autobot with fear. The dark femme cried something in a shrieking voice, and suddenly he felt an explosive force on his chassis. The blond femme screamed, there was pain, and everything went dark._

Wheeljack came back online with a jerk. Taking a reflexive scan of his surroundings, the engineer was reassured that he was still in his berth, in his quarters on the Ark. _Now what I'd like to know,_ he thought grumpily to himself, _is why all that weird stuff is floating around in my CPU and interrupting my recharge cycle. _Cybertronians could review memory files while recharging, what the humans would call dreaming, but the creation of nonsensical mental scenes was for the organic sentients alone. This was why that flux in particular had puzzled Wheeljack for days. He had no memories of such humans, so why was his idle CPU trying to convince him that he did? Accessing his internal clock, Wheeljack stifled a groan when he realized that he had been awakened at approximately 3 a.m. Still, the engineer tried to look on the bright side of things.

"Well," he said to himself, "I was going to have to get up in a few hours anyway." Swinging his frame off the recharge berth, Wheeljack stretched and began the walk to his lab. Once again, he turned over the idea of going to Ratchet in his processor. _And probably get wrenched between the optics for not coming sooner._ The inventor grimaced. Despite the fact that the CMO was his best friend, Wheeljack was just as susceptible as the rest of the crew to "Ratchet-the-Hatchet's Wrenches of Doom" (as the twins had so elegantly put it). Possibly more susceptible, given the nature of his experiments, when they failed, to fail in a spectacular and explosive manner. Of course it wouldn't be as bad as when he'd gotten back from that mission in the UK. Ratch had really let him have it then . . .

**: WHEELJACK!:**_ The green and white mach in question jumped at the sound of his friend's angry voice over the commlink. _

_**: Ratch, you nearly gave me a spark attack! What's goin' on?:**_

_** : **_**I **_**nearly gave **_**you **_**a spark attack? I'm not the one who's been refusing to answer his comm.! Where have you been the past five solar cycles?:**_

___"The past five . . ." Wheeljack trailed off. Accessing his internal chronometer, the inventor saw he'd been in London for a deca-cycle. However, in his memory banks, half that time was a vague blur. __**: Umm . . . I don't really know Ratchet:**__ There was a sigh on the other end of the link, and the medic replied;_

_**: Well Jack, get your sorry aft back stateside and I'll take a look at your CPU. Don't think your sudden case of amnesia will get you off the hook:**_

Wheeljack had nearly arrived at his laboratory when he saw Hound on the way to one of his nature walks. Silently praying the scout wouldn't spot him, Wheeljack turned to walk another way. No such luck.

"Wheeljack, is that you?" Wincing slightly, the engineer turned to face his nature-loving comrade.

"Yeah Hound, it's me. I had some trouble recharging so I got up early. What's wrong?" Hound was standing in the middle of the hall with his arms crossed over his chestplate.

"Jack, this is the third time in a row I've caught you out here this early. If there's something wrong with your recharge protocols, why don't you just go to Ratchet about it?"

"Ratch's got more important things to do than be worrying about me. He's still patching up Jazz and the twins from that Jet Judo incident with the 'Cons yesterday." Hound raised an optic ridge but didn't press the matter. Recognizing the conversation was over; Wheeljack quickly retreated into the relative safety of his laboratory. The Autobot flopped onto a workbench and began to absentmindedly tinker with leftover mechanical parts. Often Wheeljack had needed his servos to be busy in order to really think. What was he thinking about? The dream of course.

The most logical place to start would be the one component all his odd 'dreams' shared: the human femme. Not the dark-haired one who looked like she had more than a few screws loose in her processor, but the younger one with honey-colored hair. The only blonde human femmes he knew were Carly Witwicky, Sarah Lennox, and Annabelle Lennox, and it definitely hadn't been them. No matter how hard he tried, Wheeljack simply could not put a name to the face. It had to have come from _somewhere _in his CPU, and the fact that he couldn't find it frustrated the inventor immensely. But he had the distinct impression that this mysterious human had had something to do with his mission to Great Britain nearly a year ago.

Behind his blast mask, Wheeljack's faceplates screwed up in concentration. What had happened that deca-cycle? Reaching back into his memory core, Wheeljack stopped short when he came across something akin to a mental wall. Stubbornly persisting, the mech was eventually rewarded by a burst of memory;

_Sitting on the side of a London street in his vehicle form, Wheeljack finished his report to Optimus. The rumored Decepticon activity in the United Kingdom had been just that, a rumor. It would be a solar cycle or two before transportation back stateside was available, and until then the engineer was instructed to stay in the British capital. Shutting off his commlink, Wheeljack allowed his processor to drift._

_It was a few cycles later when he suddenly felt an organic hand yanking vehemently on his door handle. Immediately training his optic sensors on the disturbance, he saw an adolescent human female trying to open his door. She had shoulder length blonde hair, freckles across her nose, and forest green eyes. When the Autobot's door didn't yield to her, she cast a frightened glance around her, as though afraid someone might be watching. A moment later, she drew what appeared to be a wooden stick out of her pocket. Muttering an odd-sounding word under her breath, she jabbed her stick into Wheeljack's door. Then, to his great surprise, it unlocked. Stuffing the piece of wood back into her pocket, the girl pulled Wheeljack's door open and sprang into his vehicle form, slamming the door shut the astrosecond she was inside. Then she proceeded to stuff herself underneath his glove compartment. And not a moment too soon, as three cloaked figures appeared abruptly at the end of the street._

_The three humans stalked past, exuding an aura of anger equal to that of any Decepticon. Wheeljack had to fight the urge to cringe when one of them glared inside his Lancia mode, face concealed by a metal mask and evidently searching for the girl who had quite thrown herself on his floor to conceal her presence. Thankfully he soon moved on, and Wheeljack could direct his focus to where the trio had gathered at the end of the street. From there they began to speak, and Wheeljack strained his audios to hear._

"_The brat got away," one of them hissed, "She's not going to be happy about this."_

"_It's just one little student witch," another scoffed, "It's not like she poses the threat the Potter boy does! Let's just forget this ever happened."_

"_Agreed." Then, the inventor was sure his optics were malfunctioning, because it seemed as if the three humans changed into black smoke and streaked off into the sky. The young femme wriggled out from her hiding place, and-_

"Ow!" Wheeljack cried as he was smacked in the back of the helm.

"That's what you get for not coming to me sooner." Ratchet smirked, his trusty wrench in hand.

**While there will be lots of flashbacks, at least in the beginning of this story, there probably won't be another chapter with as many as this one. I hope you guys liked it, and again I ask you to review. See you next time!**


	3. Chapter 2

**'Ollo! I'm back! Thanks to Prowls-little-angel for being the first to review this story, and warning, this chapter is short. The next will be longer, though. And you know what I realized about Grimlock (that has absolutely nothing to do with this chapter?) His speech pattern is the most fun to imitate ever!**

** Disclaimer: Me writergurl does not own Transformers. Them Hasbro do. And me writergurl also not own Harry Potter. Her J.K Rowling do.**

Chapter 2

As it turned out, Hound had sent Ratchet over when he figured that Wheeljack would only call attention to his problem when he was forced to do so. So the CMO left his work to First Aid and found his oldest friend sitting absently on a workbench. In his servos were some metal odds and ends, and Wheeljack himself was staring blankly into space. Figuring the inventor was daydreaming, as he often did, Ratchet whacked him in the back of the helm with one of his wrenches.

"Ow!" His friend yelped.

"That's what you get for not coming to me sooner," Ratchet smirked at Wheeljack's indignant expression, twirling his wrench as the other mech rubbed the back of his recently-abused helm, "So, what's this I hear about you having issues with recharge?"

"Issues with-?" Wheeljack looked befuddled for a moment, and then his expression hardened. "Hound." Ratchet nodded. "Why couldn't that slagger mind his own business?" Slightly shocked, the CMO raised an optic ridge. _Wheeljack hardly ever curses. That settles it. Something's wrong._

"'Jack," The medic asked, gently for a change, "Are you okay?" the engineer shook his head. "What's wrong?"

"Ratchet, I can't remember what happened to me while I was in London. I can't get an uninterrupted recharge because I see things that I don't remember seeing. Memories I don't remember. And Ratch', I don't know if my processor's finally going, but the stuff I see . . . it's bizarre. I mean, a teenage human unlocked my vehicle mode's door by saying a funny-sounding word and poking it with a stick!" Ratchet honestly had no idea how to respond to this. He knew from doing routine maintenance that there were no glitches in Wheeljack's processor (none that hadn't been there for vorns, anyway), so this memory loss had Ratchet baffled. In short, he was not only concerned for Wheeljack as his medic, but as his longtime friend. So, he sat and listened as Wheeljack vented about his experiences, and promising to keep it a secret.

"'Jack," the medic said after his friend had finished, "I honestly don't have a slagging clue what's going on with you, but I promise that I'll help you figure it out." Wheeljack's mask prevented Ratchet from seeing the smile, but he could see the relief in the other mech's optics.

"Thanks Ratchet."

**Prowls-little-angel: Yeah, I suppose their CPUs would be wires and circuitry and such. *shrugs* But they still gotta put their memories somewhere, and that's what would be affected by the spell.** **Still, I definitely think some magic wouldn't affect mechs the same way it does humans. Glad you're enjoying this!**

**Until next time, enjoy life and don't forget to click that little review button down there!**


	4. Chapter 3

** Hey there people! I'm back! And, here we have the chapter where our delegate from the HP universe finally makes her debut! Well, other than the prologue, anyway.**

** Disclaimer: You know what? Frag this. I OWN HARRY POTTER AND TRANSFORMERS!**

** *Megatron and Voldemort suddenly drop out of the sky***

** Author: 0.0 Meep! *hides***

** Voldy (to Megs): Who are you? And what are you doing here?**

** Megs: I am the mighty Megatron, and I am here because this *points at author* audacious fleshling has the nerve to claim she owns me.**

** Voldy: Funny, I'm here for the same thing.**

** Author: Oh for crying out loud, it was a joke! One measly joke and I get the two most feared beings in the multiverse set on me?**

** Megs: Hey, you picked the fandoms, not us missy.**

** Author: Urgh, fine! I do not own Transformers or Harry Potter! Now are you guys satisfied?**

Chapter 3

To say Emily was bored would have been an understatement. She was, quite honestly, contemplating what would happen if she suddenly started shouting out random song lyrics and dancing on one of the airport benches. The several hours-long flight from England had been monotonous enough, but then there had been the customs, the baggage checks, and the current long wait for a rental car. _Just sit tight and hopefully it'll all be over soon,_ she thought, using the same philosophy as she had had during the past school year, the same year that horrid toad Umbridge had been in charge. But, thankfully, she had been sacked at the end of the year and Dumbledore was headmaster again. And, the Ministry of Magic had finally accepted Voldemort's return. This of course meant that the situation had become far too glaring for them to ignore.

_Then_ Mum had dropped the bomb that they were going on a summer holiday to America. And of all the states, their destination was _Oregon_. Why not Washington D.C, home of the Smithsonian? Or Pennsylvania, the location of the turning point of the American Civil War? Or even Florida, where all the great beaches were supposed to be? _Oh do stop moping;_ Emily scolded herself, _things could be a lot worse. _The blonde girl supposed the real reason she was so on edge was because now she would be out of touch with the developments that were sure to be going on back home. And America was where _he _lived. Wheeljack. The rational part of Emily's brain said that the odds of running into him, even if they were in the same state, were astronomical, and worrying about it could not possibly be productive. But, as history had shown, fate had a funny way of defying the odds. Her first meeting with Wheeljack was a smashing example of that. Of all the cars she could have gotten into . . .

_Emily crawled out from underneath the glove compartment of her vehicle refuge and stole a glance through the windshield. She sighed in relief when she saw that the three Death Eaters had vanished from the end of the street. The teenage witch was just about to open the door and leave when-_

"_Excuse me, but what exactly are you doing in here? Emily gave a startled yelp, and jumped up only to bang her head on the ceiling as a male voice with an American accent suddenly blared through the radio speakers._

"_Ow!" She and the voice both cried._

"_What the bloody hell-?" the British teen muttered, "Is this some kind of alarm?"_

"_No." The voice informed her cheerily._

"_Then what sort of mad Muggle contraption is this?" For though she was a half-blood, and far more familiar with the non-magical world than some of her classmates at Hogwarts, Emily had never encountered anything like this in a car before._

"_Well, I'm not entirely sure what a 'Muggle' is, but if you would kindly step out of my vehicle mode I will gladly show you what I am." She did as the voice bid, ducking through the passenger side door, muttering all the while, "I must be mad, I'm making deals with a bloody car." Once Emily was a safe distance away however, that all changed. The odd 'car' split into sections, flipping sliding and twisting in a mechanical dance that slowly but surely began to reveal a humanoid figure. The blonde girl watched open-mouthed as the bizarre vehicle sprouted arms, legs, hands and feet. Then finally, a head rose into place, and Emily found herself gawping at something that, now that she thought about it, _did_ seem vaguely familiar. And the intelligent Ravenclaw fifth-year-to-be she was, Emily's first coherent thought was, _Bloody hell it's a robot! A giant bloody robot! _Said giant bloody robot bent down on one knee so they could at least speak at something close to eye level. Curiosity overcoming fear and shock, Emily examined the new being's metallic features. She noted the mask covering the lower half of his face, the strange ear-like structures on each side of his head, and the friendly blue lights (were they eyes?) twinkling at her._

"_Hello there," he said, the odd head extensions flashing as he spoke. Emily gave a sort of fluttery wave. "Is this explanation to your satisfaction?"_

"_Well you haven't really explained anything," she replied softly, "What are you? Do you have a name? Who made you?"_

"_Well, I'm an Autobot of course. And no one really made me, at least not in the way you're thinking. And my name is Wheeljack." Wheeljack held out an enormous metal hand and she cautiously took hold of one of his fingers._

"_It's nice to meet you Wheeljack. I'm Emily Clevy."_

"Emily!" Said blonde was jerked out of her reminiscing by her mother's voice. Her parents had finally gotten a rental car and were loading in their bags.

"Coming." Emily replied absently, shouldering her bag and dragging her trunk over to join her family's luggage. _Besides, _she told herself, _even if by some chance you _do _run into Wheeljack, he won't remember you. _Her heart gave a painful squeeze at the cold, hard truth. Modifying her friend's memory had been, hands-down, the hardest thing Emily had ever done. Hopefully Oregon was just as devoid of Autobots as it was in museums and decent beaches. And the two worlds which were never meant to meet would not do so again.

**Hmm . . . the Autobots are not as well known in Britain as they are in America, methinks. **

**Prowl's-little-angel: Glad you like the jokes! And here is the update, primed for reading.**

**Sunny: Ask, and ye shall receive! Glad you like the story.**

**Hope you enjoyed, remember to review and I'll see you guys next time!**


	5. Chapter 4

**I cannot tell a lie . . . this chapter is complete and utter filler. And it's short. *headdesk* The next one will be better, I swear. **

**Disclaimer: Since I don't want Voldy and Megs coming after me again *shiftyeyesshiftyeyes*, I'll just say it: I do not own Harry Potter or Transformers. I seriously wish I did, but I don't.**

Chapter 4

Violet Clevy stole a glance at her daughter in the backseat of their rental car. Emily was alternating between reading a large, leather-bound tome and staring absently out the window. Emily had been tense ever since they had left the airport, and had had a slight dip in her overall mood since last summer. It had been fading, but came back with a vengeance once their holiday to America had been announced. While Violet may not have been a witch, she knew how to read her daughter, more so than her husband the wizard. _Her husband the wizard. . . _How strange that those words came so easily to her now. If anyone twenty years ago had told her that her that her life would turn out this way, Violet would have been amused, if not outright laughing.

Of course, she _had _entertained fantasies of marrying her childhood sweetheart, Nick. What had never popped up in her daydreams, however, was finding out that said sweetheart was a wizard. And that any child they had would most likely have magical abilities as well. But even though she had thought herself prepared, seeing Emily send her toys flying in a fit of toddler rage had all but given Violet a heart attack. But the most nerve-wracking incident, by far, had to be when Nick had insisted they get Emily a toy broom. The flying kind. At first Violet had been absolutely adamant, but after much wheedling and reassurances that the brooms would only hover a foot or so off the ground, she finally gave in. Then of course another burst of magic had come along and they were forced to call the fire department as the neighbors had already caught sight of their eight year old daughter in a twenty foot oak tree.

Emily's childhood years had certainly been eventful, and it had been hard to adjust when her baby started attending Hogwarts. She and Nick had often sat on the couch together and read the letters Emily sent home, he pointing out things of significance. Emily had been Sorted into Ravenclaw House, the house of those with intelligence and quick wit. She had become close friends with a fellow Ravenclaw named Demona Selwyn, and in her third year, Emily made her House Quidditch team as a Beater. But with all the good things Violet learned, there had been worrying news as well. Prime examples would be the attacks targeting Muggle-borns in Emily's second year, and the murderer running rampant in her third. Fourth year and the Triwizard Tournament weren't bad, save for the awful news of the death of the Diggory boy.

But it wasn't like any of these terrible things really had anything to do with her daughter. Nick told her it was all caused by a dark wizard, and centered around a boy named Potter. News of said dark wizard's return (and Nick and Emily still refused to tell her his name) had caused quite a stir in the magical world ever since last summer. Hopefully this holiday would at least distract her husband and daughter from the war brewing on their side of the pond. And, Violet admitted to herself, she had a second goal as well, looking back at Emily once more. The teenager who had inherited Violet's blonde hair had stopped reading and was now scribbling on a piece of parchment, perhaps a letter to Demona. Violet was certain that something had happened last summer, something Emily was involved in. And she was determined to find out what it was.

**Prowls-little-angel: Thank you! **

**And there you have it. There will be plot next chapter, I swear. Please review, and I'll see you next time. This is Writergurl616, signing off.**


	6. Chapter 5

**It's me again! With a decent chapter this time! And one thing I realized that I never mentioned: this story takes place mostly in the G1 universe, but with some movie 'verse elements such as N.E.S.T and movie humans mixed in with the G1 humans (mainly the Lennoxes along with Spike, Sparkplug, and G1 Carly).**

**Disclaimer: When I look in the Mirror of Erised I see myself owning Harry Potter and Transformers . . . too bad that darn mirror never gives us knowledge or truth**

Chapter 5

Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, was sitting upon his throne, pondering. This in itself was not very unusual, but for once the warlord was _not _thinking of way to gather energon or steal anything from the Autobots. It had come to Megatron's attention that the last few battles between his troops and the Autobots had gone . . . poorly. This being said, it was apparent that the Decepticons needed an advantage of some kind. One that the Autobots would never see coming. A new weapon? No, that's exactly what Prime would expect him to do. New allies? There was promise in that. But who, or what, could they use? The trick would be to use organisms with a fragile appearance. Even after they are attacked, the Autobots wouldn't dare to use their full strength. Their precious moral code wouldn't allow it. Perhaps . . . yes. Humans would fit the purpose quite nicely. Their ridiculously delicate bodies and miniscule size would the perfect failsafe. The only issue was the primates' accursed _inferiority_. What Megatron truly needed, he supposed, was a human with an edge, an advantage.

The silver mech did recall coming across an article on the fleshies' Internet about others of their kind with what appeared to be supernatural abilities. Making a mental note to tell Soundwave to look into it, the warlord set about plotting the Decepticon's next raid.

_One week later_

"And here we have the generators, where all of the energy this plant collects is converted and stored." The tour guide continued as she led the group toward the aforementioned equipment. Emily trailed behind her parents, a mixture of interest and irritation on her face. While the power plant's mechanisms _were_ fascinating, the tour guide would _not stop talking_. Granted, it was her job, but that didn't make it any less aggravating. And why did she have to sound so bloody cheerful? It wasn't natural for someone to smile that much. Emily's fingers slid into her pocket to rub the handle of the wand stashed there. Mum had specifically stated that she wanted this holiday to be magic-free, but the return of Voldemort (Emily allowed herself to think the name) made the young witch paranoid about going anywhere without her wand. Mum would likely be furious if she found out. Mum . . . she had been asking an awful lot of questions since this holiday began. While the questions themselves had all differed in composition, they all implied the same topic: last summer.

Thus far Emily had managed to evade these questions, knowing sooner or later she was going to have to lie outright. Telling the truth was not an option. It wasn't like she could come out and say; "_Yes Mum, I spent most of the week you and Dad were away for your anniversary mixing it up with Death Eaters and gallivanting around with a gigantic robot from outer space." _That would just go over bloody wonderfully. And not only had she been using magic underage, she'd exposed their entire world to a foreign species! But it wasn't exactly like she'd had a choice . . .

"_So, you're from another planet?" Emily asked, cocking her head at Wheeljack._

"_Yep. The planet Cybertron to be exact. We crashed here many years ago searching for energy. All the energy on Cybertron had been used up thanks to our war with the Decepticons."_

"_Decepticons?"_

"_The enemies of the Autobots. They want to use Earth's resources to take control of Cybertron and conquer the universe. The Decepticons have red optics," Wheeljack continued, "and wear a symbol like this." Using what appeared to be a small laser from only Merlin-knows-where, Wheeljack drew a pointed, face-like sigil into the sidewalk. _

"_So if that means Decepticon," Emily concluded, "That," she pointed at the insignia on Wheeljack's chest, "must mean Autobot."_

"_Correct," Wheeljack replied, head-fins flashing. "And also-"_

_Wheeljack did not get to finish his sentence, however, because a jet of green light flew between girl and mech to impact the brick wall in beside them. Emily shrieked and jumped backward, as Wheeljack did his best not to lose his balance. The three Death Eaters from before had returned, and they were not looking happy. Granted, it was hard to tell with the masks, but their body language said it all._

_The blonde girl whipped out her wand and quickly cast a shield spell as another curse flew at them._

"_Stupefy!" Emily screamed at one Death Eater. "Petrificus Totalus!" she shouted at another. Two down, one to go._

"_Expelliarmus!" Emily's eyes widened in horror as her wand went spinning out of her hand. Now she stood defenseless as the masked wizard pointed his wand at her. Then there came the thrumming of a powerful engine, and Wheeljack's vehicle form slammed into the cloaked menace. His passenger door popped open._

"_Hop in!" her savior cried. She did as he told her, scooping her wand off the pavement as she went. Practically diving into the alien car, Emily slung a seatbelt over herself as Wheeljack took off. For a short time there was an incredibly tense silence. Then;_

"_Who _were_ those people?" the mech demanded. "What were they trying to do to you? What _was _all of that?"_

"_Well, um . . ." the British girl struggled for an answer. There was a fierce battle between the two halves of her brain, until finally an inner voice overpowered them both; _Oh bugger, may as well give him the truth._ "In order, they were Death Eaters, I'm fairly certain they were trying to kill me, and, umm . . ." Here comes the difficult part. ". . . Magic?"_

_BOOM! _Emily lurched to the side as an explosion shook the power plant. Like many others, she whipped her head from side to side_, _searching for a source. Two more explosions followed in rapid succession, causing several visitors, including Emily, to lose their balance and fall. The tour guide wasn't smiling anymore as she hurriedly gave instructions to leave the premises.

"Everyone remain calm, stick together, we'll get through thi- aah!" The wall had finally given way to the assault, shattering in an explosion of concrete shards. Emily stared gobsmacked as several metal giants forced their way into the building, armed with enormous guns. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a checklist going on: _Red optics: check. Menacing aura: check. Purple sigil: check. Splendid._

"Oh bloody hell . . ." Emily said faintly, just as a particularly vocal member of the group screamed what everyone was thinking;

"Decepticons!"

**I know you guys are going to probably throw rotten tomatoes at me or something for this.**

**Blazestar of Shadowclan: You know I never thought about any of the NEST folks knowing about magic. I'm gonna have to muse on that now. And thank you, glad you're enjoying the story!**

**Prowl's-Little-Angel: Thanks for the encouragement. I was mentally beating myself up about that last chapter.**

**This is Writergurl616 asking for readers to please review and signing off. 'Till all are one.**


	7. Chapter 6

** Another short chapter, but we are seeing Wheeljack's experience being unveiled little by little, so it is progress, yes? And the next chapter would be way too long if I combined them. And in other news: Transformers: Animated is back on TV! Oh, happy day! It's not a fourth season, but we'll take what we can get, right?**

** Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Transformers, and these copyright laws are CRUEL to force me to keep reminding myself.**

Chapter 6

"Okay, let's review what we've figured out this week." Ratchet said, pulling out the notes he and Wheeljack had been taking. After making sure nobot else was around, he began to read aloud, "You have memory issues due to something that happened to you in London. That something involves an adolescent human girl, and at least three other humans wearing cloaks and masks."

"Death Eaters." Wheeljack corrected absently.

"Right," his friend noted, "Death Eaters." Thus far the inventor had come up with several strange terms: 'Quidditch' (Wheeljack said it was some kind of sport), 'Hogwarts' (a school), 'hippogriff' (something like a griffin that had nothing to do with hippos), and 'dementor' (Wheeljack couldn't think of a description other than 'bad'). Unfortunately, that was mostly what Wheeljack came up with. Bits and pieces of vague, random information. Since his small breakthrough a week ago, the Autobot engineer hadn't been able to recall much else.

"Hey Ratch'," he said suddenly, "I'm going to try again."

"Wheeljack I told you that straining your memory circuits isn't a good idea." Ratchet gave his friend a look that was half concern, half disapproval. "You could potentially cause more damage to your processor that way." But Wheeljack wasn't listening. He was pushing against the mental barrier, his mind-self reaching and reaching, until- yes!

_"Death Eaters?" he asked the girl in his passenger seat, "That's what they're called?"_

_ "Yes," she replied, "They're the followers of a dark w-" _Here a sharp pain lanced through Wheeljack's processor. But it was gone quickly and the memory continued uninterrupted. _"named, well, we don't say his name."_

_ "Why not?" he asked, puzzled._

_ "I . . . don't really know, actually. I think it's because of all the awful things he's done. Even though people believed he was gone for years, they're still afraid to say the name. Though I can't say I'm truly surprised; when You-Know-Who was in power he and his Death Eaters wiped out entire families who had opposed them. He was allied with dark creatures of the worst kind; no one knew who to trust . . . I imagine it must have been terrifying to live back then." Wheeljack was silent. The story reminded him of how it had been on Cybertron, for the last few pockets of neutrals to be pursued by both sides and unsure of which to trust. He had been one of those neutrals, for a while. But such events were in the past, and so he turned his processor back to what his companion had said._

_ "You say that people _believed _he was gone," Wheeljack asked, "What did you mean?"_

_ "Well . . . he disappeared around thirteen or fourteen years ago. The-" _The pain was back, but it didn't last any longer than it had the first time. _"world was eager to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone, especially when they heard that his-" _Again, stabbing his processor like a hot knife. _"rebounded on him. But at the end of the past school year, the boy who caused it all to happen was saying that You-Know-Who is back, and that he killed Cedric Diggory. The Ministry keeps saying that it's a lie, but I don't see any sensible reason for Harry to lie, or for Professor Dumbledore to support him. And I think the incident earlier proves that _something _is going on."_

_ "Sure seems like it." Wheeljack agreed._

**"Autobots!" **Prowl's voice echoed to life on the base speakers, jolting the inventor out of his memories. **"Decepticon attack in progress at the northern state power plant! Report to the deployment hangar immediately!" **

"You stay here," Ratchet said, fixing his friend with a glare. "The last thing I need to worry about on the battlefield is you getting blown up in the middle of one of those slagging flashbacks."

**Review time!**

**SS: Thank you for your review. It finally kicked my but into enough gear to finish this.**

**Prowls-little-angel: LOL! British accents make everything better!**

**Blazestar of Shadowclan: Thanks for the compliment. I hope my PM cleared everything up!**


End file.
